


coffee, black

by superstringtheory



Series: chubby!klaus bakery au [1]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Belly Kink, Caretaking, Common Cold, Feeding Kink, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Hand Feeding, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Meet-Cute, Sickfic, Weight Gain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-09-13
Packaged: 2020-09-29 23:15:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superstringtheory/pseuds/superstringtheory
Summary: Klaus Hargreeves: former child prodigy. Recently sober. Getting a little chubby.Dave Katz: coffee shop owner, baker. Shooting his shot.tl;dr Klaus frequents Dave's coffee shop and Dave likes to give him free donuts.





	1. Chapter 1

“I think you might need some new pants,” Ben notes as Klaus rotates slowly in front of the mirror. 

“Oh, go play Casper the Friendly Ghost with someone else,” Klaus says, exhaling noisily and waving a hand in Ben’s direction. The button on his pants slides home and he sighs in relief. 

“They still fit,” he says without looking, because of course Ben didn’t leave. They’d discovered years ago that it was either a) go hang out in the void, which, no thanks, or b) be privy to whatever weird shit Klaus is up to. 

At this point, Ben’s read more books than Klaus knew existed, but he’s still always good for a pithy remark or two. Now that Klaus is sober, there are fewer disapproving statements, so that’s some progress, but he can always count on Ben to keep him honest- at least between the two of them. 

So he asks. 

“Do these pants make me look fat?” 

“Oh, so now you want to know what I think?” 

Klaus sighs, hands on hips. Which, yes, there might be a little more of lately. 

“Yes.” 

“Yeah,” Ben says casually. “But it looks good on you. You don’t look so much like you’re going to blow away. And you’re not fat; you’re just not disturbingly thin anymore.” 

“Hmph. It’s that new coffee place,” Klaus says, a little bit of a whine edging his voice. 

“You mean it’s the guy who runs the coffee place.” 

“Which guy?” Klaus smooths down his shirt, which still fits just fine, thank you  _ very _ much. 

“Don’t pretend like you don’t know. I mean  _ Dave _ , the one who’s always making eyes at you.” 

“He is not,” Klaus protests, but preens a little anyway. 

“I’ll watch this time,” Ben says, “And tell you if he is.” 

“You perv,” Klaus says, but there’s no heat behind it. He throws on a skinny scarf over the top of the rest of his outfit and calls it good. 

*** 

There’s something about the particular jingle of the coffeeshop door that makes Klaus happy. Maybe Ben’s right and it’s because he has a crush on Dave. 

He’s been coming here for the past few months, always getting a coffee and sometimes-- more often than not, recently-- a pastry and reading in one of the chairs by the front windows. 

Okay, sure, he and Dave have started to get a little friendly, but Klaus is sure there’s nothing really to it. Maybe there’s a little flirting, but Dave recently figured out who Klaus actually is, so Klaus doesn’t think that anything is going to come of it. 

“He’s totally checking you out,” Ben tells him as Klaus sits down with his donut and coffee. “I think he likes the pants.” 

Klaus takes a sip of coffee and talks to Ben under his breath. Sure, now Dave is aware of the whole ghost world thing, but Klaus still doesn’t like to be seen doing what looks like talking to himself in public. 

“It’s his fault the pants are too tight,” Klaus says. “The pastries at this bakery are stupidly good. And he’s not checking me out. He’s just a friendly person.” 

“Suuuuure.” Ben sits across from Klaus. “And that’s why he keeps looking over here.” 

“He keeps looking over here because it looks like I’m talking to myself and that’s not a cute look for his coffee shop.” Klaus picks a piece of donut apart and shoves it into his mouth. “Now shut up so I can read my book.” 

Ben shuts up. 

*** 

It takes Dave three weeks to get Klaus’ name. This isn’t a Starbucks; there aren’t ventis or grandes or names written on cups. 

It’s just been this enormously adorable guy with his own dress code who comes in every day or so and orders black coffee and nothing else. He always puts all of his change in the tip jar and then takes his coffee and reads a book by one of the windows. 

There’s something vaguely familiar about the guy, but Dave figures that he’d remember a face like that, for sure… and then one day he’s flipping through the channels on the communal coffee shop TV and it hits him. He pauses on a news show, one of those daily drama shindigs that’s always going on about who’s married to who and who’s leaving whom and who’s wearing what. Today they’re doing a “where are they now?” segment about the former Umbrella Academy kids, and that’s it. That’s where Dave knows him from. 

“Fuuuuuuck,” says the guy by the window, and Dave turns the volume up. If he tries really hard, maybe he can play this cool. 

“What?” Dave says. “Don’t like this show?” 

The guy--  _ Klaus Hargreeves _ \-- scowls. He flaps a hand at the television, irritated. “Whatever. It’s just-- they never get the real story.” 

“So what is the real story?” Dave comes out from behind the counter. He shouldn’t be doing this; it’s against protocol. Although fuck protocol, this is his own coffee shop and if he wants to talk to a cute guy, then so be it. There’s no one in line and if someone needs an iced mocha frappuccino matcha shaken latte in the next five minutes, they can make it themselves. 

The guy holds out a hand when Dave comes over to the table. 

“Klaus,” he says, and Dave takes his hand and shakes it. 

“Nice tattoos,” he notes, and Klaus rolls his eyes. 

“Ironic, huh?” 

Dave shrugs. “I think they’re cool.” 

“Uh-huh. Sure.” 

So, maybe this Klaus guy has a bit of a chip on his shoulder. And maybe that chip is the size of Kansas. But after they’re introduced, he starts lingering at the counter a little longer. He starts to order pastries after Dave recommends the lemon blueberry donuts, and sometimes he even chats a little. 

He’s still guarded, wary, like he thinks Dave is going to call the paparazzi and tell them-- what? That Klaus Hargreeves ate a pistachio donut and seemed to enjoy it?-- to come on down and get some good candids, but that dissipates gradually over time. 

Two months in, Dave has learned several things about Klaus Hargreeves: one, he has a serious sweet tooth, and two, he never gets any less cute. 

Sometimes he seems to mutter to himself over in his chair by the window, but Dave finds that charming, too. 

Like now, for instance, Klaus is hissing something over his shoulder, looking annoyed, when Dave stops by his table to bus his plate. 

“Having a spat?” He asks mildly, and Klaus jumps a little. 

“As if you don’t know.” 

“No,” Dave says. “I really don’t. I never got into all that Umbrella Academy stuff. Always seemed kind of manipulative of your dad. No offense.” 

Klaus briefly looks delighted. “It’s impossible to offend me on the subject of my dearly… well, my  _ departed _ , at least… dad.” 

“So what’s up with that?” Dave gestures at Klaus, at the space between them, where Dave can’t see anything but Klaus clearly can. 

Klaus sighs. “I see dead people.” 

“What, like Haley Joel Osment?” 

“No, like specifically my dead brother. And a lot of other people I don’t know. But mostly my brother, who is a giant pain in the--  _ OW _ .” 

Dave doesn’t let his face crack into a smile. “So now you’re going to tell me your dead brother’s ghost pinched you.” 

Klaus gives him a long-suffering look and doesn’t respond. 

“Anyway,” Dave says after the silence goes on for an awkward amount of time, “Let me know if you want another donut. On the house.” 

Klaus considers for a moment, face scrunching up in concentration, and  _ Jesus H Christ  _ if that isn’t the most adorable thing Dave’s ever seen. 

“All right. As long as it’s on the house.” 

*** 

Dave isn’t working that weekend, and Monday morning he’s looking forward to seeing Klaus. Of course, he has other regulars he enjoys chit-chatting with and hearing about their days and their pets and kids and cross-stitch or whatnot, but if he’s honest with himself, Klaus is the highlight. The shining star in the constellation. 

Dave has fallen really, really hard. He knows it’s a bad idea from the start- Klaus is a bona fide former celebrity and it sounds like he had a pretty fucked-up childhood. That doesn’t bode well for relationship stability, at least as far as Dave can tell from the tabloids he peruses while in line at the grocery store. 

Something tells him that Klaus is different, though, so he keeps carrying the torch like he’s gunning for the Olympic flame. All morning, he startles when the door jingles, but every time it’s not Klaus his heart sinks. 

Finally, around 11 a.m., when the before-work crowd has already moved on and it’s generally a slow time, the door jingles and Klaus comes through the door. 

Dave’s so excited that he starts getting a donut on a plate and a black coffee together before Klaus says anything, but when he looks up from that, Klaus is just standing there in front of the counter, looking dazed. 

“Actually, could I get an herbal tea?” 

Dave blanches involuntarily just at the sound of his voice- scraped raw, effortful. 

Klaus’ mouth curls up a bit and then he turns his head to the side to sneeze into his shoulder. 

“Sorry,” he says. “I’m just”-- he pauses to sneeze again, and this time the sound is exhausted. “Ugh. I’ve just got this cold.” He sniffles. 

  
Dave hands him a fresh napkin over the counter to blow his nose and Klaus nods in thanks. 

“You sound terrible,” Dave says. “What are you doing out of bed?” 

Klaus just shrugs, and sniffles again. Conversing seems to take too much effort. “I don’t know,” he says eventually. All of his consonants are muted, and Dave doesn’t know why but it’s fucking adorable. “I guess…” he searches for what he wants to say, and he looks so out of it, like a little lost puppy, and all Dave wants to do is bundle him in a thousand blankets. 

Klaus clears his throat, starting over. It sounds painful and he winces. “I guess… my therapist said it’s good for me to get out of the house. So I come here. I didn’t want to break the routine. I do better if I stick to the routine.” 

God, he’s so cute. His cheeks and nose are all flushed and he keeps muffling little coughs into his collar like he’s not going to let any irritation in his throat get the best of him. 

“That’s good,” Dave tells him. “A routine is good.” 

Klaus doesn’t say anything. There’s only one other customer in the shop, an Instagrammer who’s always rearranging her coffee and pastries and standing on chairs to take pictures of them, so Dave doesn’t feel too badly about going for it. 

“Hey,” he says. “Listen. I live just upstairs and it sounds like you could use some soup or something. Do you want to… come up and I could make you some?” 

There’s a beat of silence, and then Klaus sniffles again. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Sure. Why not?” 

*** 


	2. Chapter 2

It’s weird, being up in Dave’s apartment. 

“You’ve got a  _ Gilmore Girls _ situation going on here,” Klaus notes, sitting down on the couch Dave gestures to. It’s leather and cushy and kind of feels like sitting on a hug. 

“Oh, yeah?” Dave says. He’s in the kitchen-y area of the apartment, which is a loft that’s mostly one big room. 

“Yeah,” Klaus says, and clears his throat. Talking is a lot of effort right now- his voice is scratchy and hoarse and he doesn’t sound like himself. “You know, Luke had the apartment over the diner…” 

Dave is just standing there looking at him with a fond expression on his face. 

“Are you a secret  _ Gilmore Girls _ fan, Klaus?” he asks, and he’s teasing but not making fun. It’s a nice distinction. 

“It’s not a secret,” Klaus says, and then starts coughing. 

“Aww. That sounds like it hurts.” Dave’s fond expression morphs into one of concern. 

“I guess.” Klaus pats at his chest a little. “It’ll go away eventually. I’m just in the thick of it now.” He sniffs, then drags his sleeve under his nose. 

“Sure,” Dave says. “But that doesn’t mean you have to suffer.” 

Klaus shrugs, a shoulder angled up and then down. “Most of the fun drugs are off limits so I kind of have to just let it run its course.” 

Dave, for his worth, doesn’t pry. Maybe now that he knows who Klaus is he’s gone a-Googling and knows about all the drugs and partying and all of the embarrassing things Klaus has said to the tabloids when he was high. 

Instead, Dave goes to his fridge and starts pulling out vegetables and soup base concentrate and chicken thighs. 

“Are you always just prepared to make emergency chicken soup?” Klaus asks, because Dave seems eerily ready for this very situation. 

Dave chuckles a little, prepping a cutting board. 

“I guess I’m just always prepared to cook for a cute guy.” 

Well. Shit. So there’s that.

*** 

Of course, it turns out that Dave’s a good conversationalist, too, even when Klaus is mostly listening because talking makes him cough. 

“I told you so,” Ben says from his perch on the arm of the couch. 

“Oh, go haunt someone else,” Klaus says, forgetting that Dave is right there in the kitchen. “Sorry,” he explains. “Tickle in my throat.” 

“Uh-huh.” Dave just watches him, and so Klaus does his best not to react to Ben giving him the finger as he leaves. 

It’s nice to watch Dave deftly chop vegetables and cook pieces of chicken (“Thighs only,” he says, “the meat is better”). It’s so nice and relaxing, in fact, that Klaus falls asleep right there on Dave’s couch. 

He wakes up with a start to someone touching his arm and saying his name. 

“Hey,” Dave says, and Klaus blinks up at him, a little disoriented. “You fell asleep. It’s okay, though. The soup is ready.” 

“I’m sorry,” Klaus rasps. “This is so tacky of me. I’m usually much better at… not falling asleep on people’s couches without prior permission.” He sniffs. Despite the brief nap, he feels worse than he did when he woke up, which was not great to start with. 

“It’s okay,” Dave repeats. “You’re sick.” 

“Am I ever,” Klaus says, and then continues, because it seems like Dave is non-judgmental, and is up here making him fucking chicken soup in any case. “I feel awful. I’m all congested and my throat hurts and I think I might have a fever.” 

He brings his wrist up to his forehead to check, and it does feel a little warm. 

“Ugh. I hate having a cold.” He sniffles again, and Dave hands him a paper napkin he had tucked into his back pocket. 

“You sure it’s just a cold?” Dave asks. “With a fever and everything?” 

“Yeah,” Klaus snuffles a little, and then blows his nose into the napkin. “Sorry. But yeah. I’ve always run fevers with every little bug. It’s not a big deal. Just makes me feel shitty.” 

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” Dave says. “But I hope the soup will help. I’ve heard it can do wonders.” 

Klaus has a coughing fit just then, but Dave is courteous and takes that time to go and ladle soup into a bowl and bring it back. 

It’s good. Like,  _ really _ good. 

“So you’re not just good at baking,” Klaus says once he resurfaces from the bowl. 

Dave blushes, and it’s a good look for him. Maybe if Klaus weren’t a walking biohazard right now, he’d make a move. Well. Once he feels better, it could be time to “go for it,” like Ben keeps telling him to do. 

Before he knows it, the bowl of soup is empty and he’s feeling tired again, like he should go home and nap for a week. 

Klaus says as much, and Dave looks a little crestfallen, like maybe he’d hoped Klaus would stay and germ up his furniture even more. It just solidifies Klaus’ plan: once he’s not contagious, he is definitely going to ask Dave out. 

***

Dave feels a little like a perv watching Klaus eat the soup that he’d made for him, but he justifies it because  _ clearly  _ Klaus needs someone to take care of him and who better than Dave, who is, after all, a trained cooking professional by trade? 

“So… thanks for the soup,” Klaus says as he’s scraped the bottom of the bowl with his spoon. Despite everything, he sounds worse than ever- like all of the congestion has settled somewhere around his Adam’s apple, and it’s moved in for the duration. 

“Hey,” Dave says, because why not go for it. If it doesn’t turn out, he could just say that Klaus was delirious and imagined the whole thing. “We should do this again sometime.” 

Klaus raises an eyebrow. 

“I mean…” Shit. This is  _ not _ what he meant. “I mean, without you being sick. Not that I think it’s gross or anything. Just that I want you to feel your best when I take you on a real date.” 

Klaus sniffles, then pauses to aim a tired-sounding sneeze into his shoulder. “Sorry.” He looks out of it for a moment, then gathers himself. “Just… this was a date?” He sneezes again, suddenly, and looks completely annoyed with himself for this. “Fuck. Sorry.” 

“I mean...” Dave doesn’t quite make eye contact, twisting his hands in his lap. “I wanted it to be. Was it?” 

“Well, you did make me a meal,” Klaus says slowly. “So I say yes. It fits the criteria.” His voice catches on the last word and he ducks his head to cough into the collar of his shirt. It’s heavy and painful-sounding- whatever rhinovirus this is, it has horns and claws besides. 

“Good,” Dave says to that, because he’s not sure what else to say. “Now let’s get you back home and in bed.” He can  _ feel _ himself blushing as he says the words ‘in bed’ and he mentally slaps himself for still being a fourteen-year-old boy at heart. 

“Okay,” Klaus agrees, and Dave walks him back downstairs and to the door of the coffee shop. Which, yes, he had left unattended for the last hour and a half, but he turned the sign to ‘CLOSED,’ for God’s sake, and if a man can’t leave his own coffee shop to go make soup for his crush in the middle of the day, then this isn’t the America Dave wants to live in. 

“Wait a second,” Klaus says as his hand is on the door, and Dave thinks that he might need another tissue or to sneeze or cough or something, but it turns out that Klaus just wants his number. 

Dave recites it from memory, a little dazed, and Klaus types it into his phone. 

Dave gets a text from Klaus almost immediately, acknowledging that it’s him. 

And then Dave doesn’t hear from him again at all for the next 36 hours. 

*** 

Dave thinks that being forced to read back through your text messages after someone you hve a crush on hasn’t responded to several in a row should be used as a torture technique. He’s going to have to get in touch with someone at Guantanamo or something. 

**Dave Katz:** _hey, Klaus, this is Dave. From the coffee shop. _

**Dave Katz:** _I hope you get some good rest and start feeling better soon!_

**Dave Katz:** _was the soup that bad? _

Then, just when Dave is thinking that he should maybe just shutter up the coffee shop and move to Prague with a new identity, his phone lights up with a new message. 

**Klaus Hargreeves:** _i’m so sorry i slept soooo much_

**Klaus Hargreeves:** _i feel way better_

**Klaus Hargreeves:** _i think it was the soup ;) _

Okay, so maybe it was a little soon to panic. 

*** 

Dave is impatient, so he asks Klaus if he wants to go on a date on Saturday. They’ve been texting all week and it’s been going well, so it feels like the right time. 

They meet at the restaurant, a local Indian place, and Dave almost has to continually pinch himself to remember that this is actually happening. 

Klaus’ voice is still a little raspy, but it’s not very noticeable. He coughs occasionally, but they’re light, easily ignored, so unlike the throat-scraping, phlegmy sound they’d been before. 

“I’m glad you’re feeling better,” Dave says again, and Klaus smiles at him from across the table. 

“Me too,” he says, dragging out the words. “That took me down hard and fast.” He clears his throat, and sure, there’s still some gunk rattling around in there, but he looks so much healthier that it warms Dave’s heart. He’s also much more animated, and Dave realizes that this is probably Klaus’ normal- he’s ready to have an opinion on any topic and is extremely open about his past and Dave finds that refreshing. 

Plus, he seems to  _ really  _ like Indian food. 

“You’ve got a good appetite,” Dave notes, and just saying the words sends a little thrill through him. It’s not like he hadn’t noticed before how Klaus picks away at donuts and little bags of candy until only crumbs remain. 

“Crazy, isn’t it?” Klaus asks with his mouth full, and Dave clenches his hand around the edge of his chair. “I used to be the skinniest junkie you ever saw. Now look at me!” He finishes chewing, swallows, then pats the tiniest bit of pudge that’s accumulated around his waist. 

Dave has to take a moment to swallow, himself. “I mean, it’s not  _ that _ crazy. You’re probably eating a lot better than you used to.” 

“Yeah, I never used to eat much at all,” Klaus says conversationally. He takes another samosa from the little pile on his plate and eats it whole. 

By choosing an Indian buffet, Dave essentially took Klaus on a date to his own private hell. Or heaven. It depends on the moment. 

Dave doesn’t like to categorize himself as any one particular thing-- on the day, he flip-flops between _ pan  _ and  _ bi _ to describe his sexuality-- but now that he’s in his late 20s, he supposes it’s probably time to just own up to being a feeder. 

As Dave is considering this, Klaus finishes the last of his samosas, stifles a burp into his fist and then pats his belly again. Dave is going to fucking  _ implode _ . 

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I was such a glutton on our first real date! Forgive me, Obi-Wan. You’re my only hope.” 

“It’s okay,” Dave assures him, his voice feeling tight. It’s way, way more than okay. 

*** 

So sure, maybe Dave using all of his inheritance money to open a bakery/coffee shop was not just for idealism and hashtag support local businesses. 

Sure, maybe one of Dave’s exes had yelled that he was just a “chubby chaser” when they were breaking up and wasn’t that an awkward time to be at a Cheesecake Factory. Dave still can’t show his face over there. 

And sure, Dave just likes a little meat on the bones. Cushion for the pushin.’ Love handles, because God, he loves to handle them. 

The next day, Dave watches Klaus take a bite of his third (third!) donut of the morning and feels a little spark of excitement in his chest. 

There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? From across the coffee shop, he can see the look of pleasure on Klaus’ face as he chews. 

Nothing. Not. A. Thing. 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I think I have self-control but then I do things like buy lavender coveralls printed with snakes or write this fic.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Klaus and Dave get dinner... and dessert.

Their second date is also at a restaurant, but Klaus picks this time. 

“Fine,” Dave says. “But only if you’ll let me make you dessert afterwards.” 

This makes a delicious feeling slither up Klaus’ spine, and he agrees readily. Sure, this seems like a bigger step, but after Dave had made him soup and let him fall asleep on his couch all feverish and snotty, Klaus can’t help but trust that Dave has his best interests at heart. He’s not going to try and take advantage of the situation unless Klaus asks him to-- which he’s already planning on doing. 

They’d had their first kiss after the last dinner, and Klaus thinks that Dave tastes just as sweet as all of the donuts he keeps giving him, like they’re going out of style or something. 

It’s not like it’s a bother- far from it. 

It feels good, in fact, to indulge himself. Dave’s baking is incredible, and it seems like every day he has a new flavor of donut or scone that he wants Klaus to test out. There’s only one slight issue. 

“Fuck,” Klaus says. He’s back in his room, getting ready for his date with Dave. 

“What’s going on?” Ben asks. He’s sitting on Klaus’ bed, paging through a comic book. 

“As if you don’t know.” 

“Know what?” Ben lifts his gaze up from the comic when Klaus just stares at him. 

“It’s the scones. And the donuts. God, the donuts!” 

“It’s the pants,” Ben says mildly, and turns another page. “They don’t fit.” 

Klaus sighs, dramatically. “Thank you so much, Captain of the Ghost Ship Obvious.” 

“Anytime,” Ben says, and this time he doesn’t even look up from the book. Typical. 

Klaus rummages in his closet again. Maybe he has something a little more… roomy? Stretchy? Generously-waisted?

He unearths a pair of purple drawstring pants. Okay, so he’ll have to change tops, but… they should do, at least until he can go shopping. 

“You’re wearing sweatpants already? That’s a fast relationship move,” Ben says, and if Klaus could smack him, he would. Well, technically he  _ could _ , but manifesting takes a lot of effort and Klaus wants to be in tip-top shape for this date, since the last time he was still kind of getting over being sick. 

“They’re  _ joggers _ ,” Klaus tells him haughtily, pulling them on. He pairs them with a black cashmere sweater that may have been Luther’s a few shoulders ago and an amalgamation of silver necklaces. 

“You look comfy,” Ben notes. 

“This stuff is all easy to take off,” Klaus says. “So there’s that.” He waggles his eyebrows at Ben, who remains nonplussed. 

“Don’t stay out too late,” Ben tells him, and Klaus ignores him. He has a date to get to.

***

They meet at the restaurant, and Klaus can feel his heart flip-flop in his chest when he sees Dave standing outside. He’s wearing a cute little floral button-down because  _ of course _ he is, and he looks so preppy and handsome that it hurts a little to look at him. Klaus just bets that Dave owns boat shoes.

He never pictured himself with someone like this- but he supposes he never really pictured himself with someone long-term at all. Before the whole thing with non-Apocalypse and all of that, he was flitting from couch to couch, bed to bed and not ever thinking more than a few days in advance. 

Dave makes him want long-term. To plan. Dave makes him want stupid things like his own apartment or a mutt they can take on walks together. 

It’s too soon to think about that, though- Klaus isn’t even sure if Dave likes him that much. The way Dave’s eyes light up when Klaus walks up gives him a good indication, though. 

“Hi,” Klaus says when he gets right up next to Dave. “I like your shirt.” 

To Klaus’ surprise, Dave leans over and kisses him right there outside the restaurant, a hip little Italian place that does seasonal handmade pasta. 

“Shall we?” he asks, and all Klaus can do is nod, in awe at this beautiful man who isn’t afraid to be seen with him in public. 

*** 

Dave’s nervous even before the appetizer arrives, his heart skipping a beat when Klaus touches his hand as he slides into the booth across from him. 

“Have you been here before?” he manages to ask over the top of his menu, and Klaus hums in agreement. 

“It’s really good,” he says. “They change their menu seasonally and  _ Jesus _ , the lamb ragu I had last time I was here was to  _ die _ for.” 

“Good to know,” Dave says, quickly raising his menu back up to hide his blush.  _ Just be normal for one meal _ , he accosts himself.  _ It can’t be that hard!  _

He gives up on that very quickly, about as soon as Klaus orders three appetizers and insists that they each get an entreé and then an extra one “so we can each try a few things.” 

Dave watches Klaus plow through the homemade bread and orange-infused butter and the plate of warmed olives. He tries not to stare as Klaus picks at the plate of charcuterie until there are only crumbs of goat cheese and a little smear of fig jam left. 

“God, I just can’t help myself whenever I come here,” Klaus tells him, leaning back a little. “I didn’t eat much for lunch so that I could have plenty of room for pasta.” 

Dave’s mouth goes dry. 

“Uh-huh,” he says astutely. Luckily, he’s spared from having to come up with anything else to say by the arrival of said pasta. 

It lives up to Klaus’ recommendations, but even so, Dave can barely eat half of his own entreé and a few bites from the other two (two!) before he has to stop and just watch Klaus enjoying. It fills Dave up in a way that food never could. 

When he finishes the first two dishes, Klaus allows himself a muffled belch into his napkin and excuses himself. It’s not long before he’s eyeing the rest of Dave’s sweet potato gnocchi and so Dave pushes his plate gently across the table. He’s very proud of himself that he manages not to let his hands shake as he does it. 

“Go ahead,” he tells Klaus. “No use letting it go to waste.” 

Which it certainly does not- Klaus finishes the rest of Dave’s food as well, and looks content afterwards. 

“God,” he says. “I hope I’m not too full to have fun later.” 

“There’s still dessert at home,” Dave says before he can stop himself, and Klaus eyes him evenly. 

“True,” he says. “There is that.” 

*** 

Back at Dave’s place, Klaus watches avidly as Dave finishes off the creme bruleé with his mini culinary blowtorch. 

“Of course you have one of those,” Klaus says, and Dave’s glad when he is finished with the flambé portion of the dessert because when Klaus lifted his arms to stretch, his sweater rode up and showed off a delicious slice of skin that Dave just wants to put his hands all over. 

A little later, despite finishing all of his miniature creme bruleé and half of Dave’s, Klaus is not at all too full to have fun. When he takes his shirt off, Dave has to bite his lip- he’s not sure where to look first- his beautiful face, backlit by the floor lamp, or at the gently rounded curve of Klaus’ stomach. 

“Like what you see?” Klaus says, and Dave can’t breathe. 

He can’t breathe so much he has to crush Klaus’s mouth to his own. And then he can’t breathe so much that before he knows it, they’re all undressed and he’s asking Klaus if this is okay, and is this okay, and it is. 

Actually, it’s all better than okay. By a lot. Dave has never been less okay in his life, in fact. 

He must doze off afterwards because when he opens his eyes again, Klaus is propped up on an elbow, watching him. 

“Hey,” he says softly. 

“Hey,” Dave says back. They’ve reached that weird moment following intimacy when everything seems embarrassing to say even though they just had their genitals all over each and in each other. 

“So that happened,” Klaus says. “I liked it a lot.” 

“Me too,” Dave manages. “It was…” he can’t find a good word. Instead, he reaches over and traces the line of Klaus’ jaw with a finger. 

“I really like you,” Klaus whispers. “I think we should do this again. Soon.” 

“I like you too,” Dave says immediately. “And I agree.” 

So now they’re dating and it’s not just a hook-up and Dave is so giddy that sometimes he has to pinch himself to remind himself that Klaus is real. 

By the time Dave asks Klaus to be his boyfriend, Dave’s learned that Klaus is just about the easiest person to talk to he’s ever met. They’ve stayed up late together talking in bed, not even having sex, and it feels  _ right _ . They’ve flown through discussing past relationships and traumas and have even talked about their hopes for the future. 

Also, Klaus has gained fifteen pounds. Dave knows because Klaus told him right out, apropos of nothing, and Dave almost choked on his own tongue. 

Something about that makes Dave almost think that Klaus knows, but… he’s been so careful! He hasn’t even tried to hand-feed Klaus anything. Yet. 

And he only brings him an extra donut or two or three like, every day. 

Yup, Dave is playing it cool and he is being  _ super _ successful at it. 

*** 

The thing is, Klaus isn’t stupid. Far from it. So it doesn’t take him all that long to realize that Dave seems to lavish a… particular attention… on certain parts of his anatomy. Like his thighs, or his belly, which is now a legitimate presence. 

Plus, there’s the whole thing where Dave seems to be trying to get Klaus to eat him out of house and home. 

So Klaus decides to experiment a little the next time they go out to eat. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s ever run into someone with a kink, and the idea of perfect, buttoned-up Dave being a  _ feeder _ or something is really quite adorable. It’s always the most normal-looking ones, Klaus muses. 

Klaus stuffs himself with dolmades and keftedes and traditional Greek salad, Dave’s eyes on him the whole time. He keeps flicking his gaze up to Klaus and then away, and it’s so fucking obvious that Klaus can hardly believe he didn’t notice it right away. 

And sure enough, when there’s half a piece of moussaka sitting between them on the table and Klaus has already told Dave that he’s “god, so fucking full,” Dave’s still looking at the food and then back at Klaus. 

“Do you want to finish that?” he asks finally, and Klaus laughs. It was almost too easy. 

“Well, do  _ you _ want me to eat it?” he asks. “Do you like watching me eat too much?” 

“Yes, I do,” Dave blurts, and then hides his face in his hands. 

“Jesus Christ,” Klaus says. “Then why didn’t you say so? I can eat way sexier than that.” 

“Wait,  _ what _ ?” 

Klaus just looks at him. “What, did you think I didn’t notice that you keep feeding me donuts and watching me eat like it’s an extra season of  _ Game of Thrones _ ?” 

“I thought I was being discreet.” 

Klaus kicks Dave’s foot under the table. 

“Please. I think I can read you better than that.” 

The tips of Dave’s ears have gone red. 

“So are we gonna do this, or what?” Klaus wants to know. “Because if we’re going to do this here, I might have to undo a button or two.” He casually indicates his button-up shirt and Dave’s face is flaming. 

“... let’s do it here,” Dave manages eventually, and so Klaus flags down the waiter. 

“Enough baklava for two, please,” Klaus says. “One fork.” 

***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The restaurant with the seasonal pasta and the warmed olives is a real place and I'm pretty sure it's Heaven.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lot of eating.

Klaus is the biggest tease Dave has ever met. And Dave has met a lot of very fabulous gay men over the years. 

Once he knows about Dave’s  _ thing _ , he is absolutely unstoppable. 

The second morning after Dave’s revelation, Klaus comes to the coffee shop and eats six donuts in one sitting. Dave has to turn the sign to ‘CLOSED’ again. 

*** 

So, maybe six donuts was a little ambitious. After they have their fun, Klaus has to lie down on Dave’s bed and take a nap while Dave goes back down and reopens the shop. His belly hurts a little, but it mostly makes him feel slow and sleepy- and he finds that that’s not a bad thing. It’s been a long time since he’s felt comfortable enough to relax somewhere. 

Klaus wakes up to a change in pressure on the bed as Dave sits down on the edge. Dave runs a hand through Klaus’ hair as Klaus opens his eyes, and says, “Did you have sweet dreams, love?” 

Klaus wiggles a little bit to sit up. “Sweet is definitely the word,” he says. “That was a lot of donuts.” 

“Oh, I know,” Dave says, biting his lip a little. “It was pretty impressive.” 

“Don’t worry,” Klaus assures him with a kiss. “I plan to impress you plenty.” 

He stays true to his word, too- their next date night, Dave makes piles of homemade pasta with a creamy sauce and they eat it on the couch. Dave spoons it into Klaus’ waiting mouth until Klaus is resting bonelessly against him, letting out little moans of half-pleasure, half-pain. 

“You still good, babe?” Dave asks him, and Klaus just nods. 

“Might have to wait a little bit for dessert,” he says, and the thing is, it’s just so  _ easy _ to tease Dave like this. As soon as Klaus says the word ‘dessert,’ the tips of Dave’s ears go flaming red. 

Even beyond how much Klaus has been enjoying this, it’s worth it solely to watch Dave come undone, this little barista with his apron strings always perfectly tied in a crisp knot. 

Midway through the movie, Klaus has digested enough to let himself be coaxed into dessert, and he hiccups his way through a plate of the prettiest macarons you ever did see. Light pink rose-flavored, a pale purple for lavender bergamot, and creamy chocolate. 

“You outdid yourself on these,” he tells Dave with his mouth full, and feels a warm glow of pleasure in his chest at Dave’s blushing smile. 

“I love baking for you,” Dave says. “I like watching your enjoyment.” 

“Oh, I think my enjoyment is quite evident,” Klaus says around another mouthful, indicating where his shirt has ridden up on his full tummy. 

After another macaron or two, Klaus didn’t know it was possible to be this full. 

“Jesus Christ and the twelve disciples,” Klaus says. He pulls his shirt up a little more and splays an open hand on his bare skin. Dave inhales audibly. “You can  _ see _ my stomach, I’m so fucking full.” 

He gives it a pat and burps, then sighs. 

“I’m gonna need some good ministrations tonight, Dave.” 

Dave’s never been one for pontificating at a pulpit, but he sure is good at the ministrating. 

*** 

Dave notices it the next week: Klaus is getting soft all over. He used to be all pointy elbows and knees, but now there’s something more relaxed about him. He sits still longer. He doesn’t seem to need so much constant activity in order to keep his brain calm. 

He’s started doing illustrations for the coffeeshop- tiny little ink portraits of pastries done on cardstock that Dave props up in front of the day’s offerings in the glass case. Caricatures of Dave baking that he does in broad chalk strokes for above the counter. 

Klaus seems to enjoy it, participating in Dave’s livelihood like this, and Dave loves to encourage him, bending over his shoulder to watch him draw and-- of course-- bringing him pastries to sample for his craft.

Like now, for instance- Klaus is carefully shading with a pencil and the side of his hand is all smudgy, as Dave sets down a little plate with an oversized almond croissant on it next to his arm. 

“Mm, thank you,” Klaus says without looking up. 

  
  
  
  
  


“How do you feel about ice cream tonight?” Dave asks. “I was thinking of using my Kitchen Aid attachment to make some.” 

“I’m hungry already,” Klaus says, even though his mouth is full. A shiver runs all the way through Dave’s body. He feels electrified. 

*** 

Dave makes a quart of Klaus’ favorite flavor: chocolate ice cream with Oreo pieces blended in. 

“You spoil me,” Klaus says when he sees it. 

“Hardly,” Dave responds. “I’m the one who’s really spoiled.” He sets the tub of ice cream down on the coffee table. “What do you want to watch?” 

Klaus stretches, luxuriating. “You choose,” he says. “I’m going to be busy eating.” 

And he certainly is- heroically making it through over half of the ice cream before he starts to slow down. He pauses, allows himself a thick belch, then keeps going. 

“Tummy hurts,” Klaus admits, giving the side of his stomach a little rub as if to soothe. “Might need to take a little break.” He hiccups. 

“Of course,” Dave says, setting aside the carton of ice cream. “You’ve had a lot.” 

“Have I--  _ hic _ \-- ever,” Klaus agrees, surveying Dave craftily. “And you helped.” 

“I did.” Dave looks at the melting remnants of ice cream. “Do you want me to put this back in the freezer, or…?” 

“Nah,” Klaus says. “I just need a few minutes. Maybe a belly rub.” His eyes glitter at Dave, and oh, Dave is so  _ fucking _ there. He doesn’t need to be asked twice. 

“When I start eating again, you should touch yourself while you watch me,” Klaus says as Dave’s roaming his hands around Klaus’ stuffed belly, feeling gently for tight places he can massage. “Oof.” Klaus belches, deep and low, as Dave rubs a tight spot on his side. “Pardon.” 

“Are you giving me orders, Klaus?” Dave asks, and the little blush that decorates Klaus’ pretty face is adorable. 

“No-ooo,” he says, drawing the word out. “Just thought you’d like the idea.” 

“Oh, don’t worry,” Dave says. “I love the idea. I just want you to remember who’s in charge here.” 

“Mm, I know,” Klaus assures him, letting out a little groan when Dave presses his fingers in harder. 

“Does that help, baby?” Dave asks him, and the way Klaus relaxes under his touch is all the answer he needs. 

Before too long, Klaus is reaching for the ice cream container again and Dave has his pants and underwear off. He nestles himself right up next to his boyfriend on the couch-- and thank god for L-shaped furniture-- so that he can jack himself off and touch Klaus’ belly all at once while hearing the sounds Klaus makes as he eats. It’s almost overstimulating, but Dave knows that this won’t take long. 

“Watch this,” Klaus tells him, and pulls the carton back to show Dave that the rest is all melted. He brings the lip of it up to his mouth and starts chugging, and for a second Dave can’t breathe, mesmerized by watching Klaus swallow. 

Then Klaus finishes, sets the empty carton down on the coffee table with a clatter, and then wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He pats the crest of his belly a couple of times and then burps before leaning back into the cushions in contentment. 

Dave comes. 

*** 

It doesn’t take long for Dave to take care of Klaus after he’s cleaned himself up, and he shows Klaus just how much he loves and appreciates him by giving him an amazing blowjob. 

“Tit for tat,” he says. “You eat, then so do I.” 

Making Klaus happy might be the reason Dave was put on this earth. Also, he’s pretty good at making pastries, but that seems secondary (even if it helps with the first thing). 

“You’re so beautiful,” he tells Klaus. 

“Even like this?” Klaus asks, but it’s not a serious question. 

“Mmm,” Dave says, running a hand up Klaus’ side. “Especially like this.” 

*** 

He’s gained another fifteen pounds by the time Klaus realizes that he’s really, truly  _ content _ . He’s not running from place to place, couch-surfing here or squatting there. He and Dave have been talking about moving in together and Klaus thinks that it’s really going to happen soon.

He practically lives at the coffee shop now as it is; he’s even learned how to make his own fancy lattes, although Dave still prefers to do it for him. 

“You good?” Dave asks him as Klaus is standing there daydreaming. 

“Yeah,” Klaus says. “I think I am.” 

***** 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry not sorry I will shoehorn sickfic and chubby kink into anything I can. I just want someone to feed Klaus up and take care of him! And I want that someone to be Dave. 
> 
> I'm on [tumblr](superstringtheory.tumblr.com) if this floats your boat. There's more where it came from.


End file.
